


something brewing between us

by thankyouforexisting



Series: you light the spark [2]
Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bad Puns, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pining, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouforexisting/pseuds/thankyouforexisting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know,” an amused voice says, and Ty freezes, slowly looking up to meet irresistible blue eyes,  “I make my coffee hot, but you may just be hotter.”</p><p>From his left, there’s the sound of Livvy choking and dropping a spoon. </p><p>He flushes, gritting his teeth, “What would you like to order?”</p><p>“A cup of you, to go, please, no sugar, you’re sweet enough,” Kit smirks,  and Livvy’s giggling now, not even trying to hide it, “And I would also appreciate if you stopped stalking my coffee shop. It just isn’t good to keep meeting like that.”</p><p>Ty narrows his eyes, “This war isn’t over until I say it’s over, you truant. One coffee, black like your soul, coming up.”<br/>// The Blackthorns have a coffee shop. There's competition in town. Detective Ty is on the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something brewing between us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dinosaurfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaurfangirl/gifts).



> oh god i should study  
> dedicated to my wonderful, amazing BAEta Cata <3
> 
> Based on the prompt: Character A works at a rival coffee shop from Character B and they’re both engaged in a passive-aggressive fight.

“As long as there was coffee in the world, how bad could things be?” 

―  **Cassandra Clare** ,  **City of Ashes**

 

“No matter what historians claimed, BC really stood for "Before Coffee.” 

―  **Cherise Sinclair** ,  **Master of the Mountain**

* * *

 

After a few hours boredly cleaning empty tables, closing his fingers around the thin wooden stick of a household broom, and wiping at their glass windows just for something to do, Ty decides that something must be done.

 

He frowns and goes into the kitchen, blinking at the heat and breathing in the deliciously tempting smell of cooking down. He leans against the doorframe and sighs as dramatically as he can.  He waits until his brother is finished making the little muffins their coffee shop’s so famous for, and then asks briskly, “What’s wrong?”

 

Julian sets the metal tray on the counter and  wipes the sweat off his brow with a rag, washing his hands in the sink. He cocks his head at Ty, eyebrows scrunching up, “Huh?”

 

Ty makes a small noise in the back of his throat, frustrated, and waves his arms around, “I just meant, there were less people today. Did you start poisoning your muffins or something? If so, you’ll get caught, you know.”

 

Julian snorts, drying his hands and taking off the apron with practiced movements, “Nah, Ty. They just opened a new coffee shop today, and novelty is always attractive,” he smiles ruefully, and ruffles his hair fondly, which just makes Ty scowl, “Don’t worry, it’ll be as busy as usual by tomorrow.”

 

“Whatever you say,” he mutters under his breath, and grins at Julian, “You’re going out with Emma tonight?”

 

His brother blushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and glancing around the kitchen. Cristina, the new Mexican chef, Emma’s friend who didn’t mind helping out every once in awhile (in exchange for free coffee), starts cackling as she makes some pastries.

 

“Have fun,” Ty says with a grin, and leaves him be.

 

Anyway, everything will be normal tomorrow. 

 

…

 

It isn’t.

 

Ty peers at the coffee shop across the street,  _ Rook’s _ , from under the shutters of the window in the small storage room, narrowing his eyes, “They are evil.”

 

Livvy raises a questioning eyebrow, tying her apron neatly and putting her hair back, letting out a slow breath, “Really, now.”

 

He crosses his arms over his chest, lifting his chin, “They are right in front of us, Liv! We can’t  _ allow _  this!”

 

“Well, then,” Livvy smirks, grabbing her peppermint gum and popping it into her mouth, “You might just have to go over there and say so.”

 

Ty freezes, letting the shutters fall, and swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, “I...I’m not the owner!” he protests weakly, glaring at Livvy. Why must she be so rational?

 

She snorts and tugs on his earlobe, making him yelp, “Julian’s only in charge because he’s the only one who knows  _ anything _ about cooking, and Mark and Helen think it’s hilarious what he gets up to when they’re gone. Come on, Ty, you’re an adult, go and give them a piece of your mind. Wear your nerd hat, if it makes you feel better.”

 

“It’s a  _ deerstalker _ ,” Ty insists, groaning, “It’s my  _ detective _ hat.”

 

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

“I hate you.” Emma taught him, a few years ago, that sometimes ‘I hate you’ can mean the very opposite, or just ‘I’m annoyed with you but I still love you’. He doesn’t use it often, but it seems to be correct, this time.

 

Livvy smiles at him and kisses his forehead gently. He tries to stay still, “Yeah, yeah. Be right back, shift just started.”

 

“Don’t make out with any more customers!” he calls after her, smirking when she curses at him.

 

“Lance was a  _ mistake _ , okay?!”

 

…

 

_ Rook’s _ is kind of a lousy coffee shop, if Ty says so himself.

 

He’s hiding behind one of the cars parked on the street, crouching, and staring at the place, wondering what his best plan of attack is, periodically rearranging his deerstalker so that it doesn’t fall off. He  _ knew _ he should have bought the smaller one.

 

The place has a nice façade, with the name in shiny red letters displayed at the top (and really, the name is so terribly unoriginal that Ty has a hard time believing anyone would want to buy coffee from here) and the small terrace outside is nice, he can grudgingly admit. People, generally teenagers, are sipping from plastic cups, snapping pictures of their friends and laughing ridiculously at them, ignoring some hissed out threat. 

 

Ty hmphs, fingers drumming on the back of the car, and thinks hard on his next move. Should he order a coffee, to see what makes it so appealing to the normal LA teenager? Make a study? Some graphs? That’s usually what he does for his projects at university, when he sends them in. Maybe it’d be best if he subtly concealed himself in the shadows, gathering data -

 

“Are you  _ spying  _ on us?” asks an incredulous voice, and Ty’s head snaps up.

 

And  _ Oh _ .  _ Fuck _ . 

 

There’s a breathtaking guy standing next to him, frowning furiously, mouth open (probably to yell at him and throw one of the yellow dish towels he’s holding) and then he cuts off abruptly, choking on his words and taking a step back. He moves his fingers through his blond hair and croaks out, “Um.”

 

Ty flushes, scrambling to stand up, so fast that he almost loses his balance, staggering, but the boy quickly puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He smells like whipped cream and chocolate, and Ty wants to sniff him, which he knows he absolutely should  _ not _ do. He glares, and the blond takes his hand off as if he’s been burnt. “No, I was obviously  _ not _ spying.”

 

“But you were watching the coffee shop. From behind a car,” the guy frowns, confused,  his eyebrows scrunching up, and  _ fuck _ , he looks cute.

 

Ty lifts his chin up self-righteously, “Well, I could have many reasons for doing that.”

 

“Like?”

 

He huffs, looking away, because the other guy’s eyes are an eerily calming blue, too pretty to mean anything good, and his heart is beating too fast, “I don’t have to tell you!”

 

He chuckles, putting his hands in his pocket and cocking his head, “You’re one of a kind, aren’t you,” he smiles, ducking his head, “I’m Kit.”

 

“I’m...er,” he hurriedly tries to think of a good enough alias, because this is the enemy, and blurts out, “Gladstone.”

 

Kit’s eyebrows shoot up, “Nice name.”

 

“Well, I have to go,” Ty scrambles, and just remembers he’s wearing his  _ deerstalker _ , flushing mortifyingly and taking it off, stuffing it under his uniform, “And I was  _ not _ spying!”

 

“See you, stalker!” Kit shouts cheerfully at his retreating back, waving the dish towel at him.

 

…

 

“Ty, you are sulking. I demand an explanation.” Dru pokes at him, feet propped up on the small glass table in their living room, tearing her eyes away from her Agatha Christie novel and frowning, “You’re usually trailing after Livvy in the shop at this hour. It’s cute, even Emma says so.”

 

Ty glares at her, touching his headphones and burying himself in the couch as much as he can, setting his Literature textbook on the table. His teacher’s probably going to yell at him for writing his essay in latin again, “I am biding my time. If there is anything Sherlock Holmes has taught me - ”

 

Yeah, Dru’s already back to reading. Tavvy snickers at him and rests his head on their sister’s shoulder, sticking his tongue out.

 

He sighs, fidgeting with his pipe cleaner and chewing on his lower lip. Ty doesn’t really want to be outside, where customers look at him oddly if he doesn’t meet their eyes, or teenagers who think they’re funny try to take away his headphones. But he also knows he can’t hide in here forever, even if it’s an incredibly tempting option.

 

Besides, he tries cheering himself up, he might get further on his investigation.

 

If nothing else, Julian will give him a cookie.

 

When he walks into  _ Angel’s Coffee  _ (see? A good name. A play on Los Angeles  _ and _ their weird as fuck family lore that says they’re related to angels. Wow, they must have some  _ strong _ opium in the middle ages), he’s faced once again with the fact that  _ Rook’s _ are stubbornly continuing to steal their precious customers.

 

“I mean, it’s outrageous!” he fumes, watching Julian take out some delicious cookies out of the oven, “Who does he think he is - ?”

 

“ _ He _ ?” his older brother smirks, and oh no. Oh  _ fuck _ . He fucked up. He fucked up. “I gather you’ve met someone at Rook’s, then.”

 

Ty glares at him, “No! What could possibly give you  _ that _ idea?! Just, statistically, there are more chances of the owner being male than female, considering the incredibly misogynistic system that - “

 

Cristina huffs out a laugh from where she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, licking her fingers clean off cookie dough, “Oh, kid, you’re unreal. Go and ask the boy out, before you tear his shop down. I hear that’s bad for a healthy relationship.”

 

He slumps on one of the wooden kitchen chairs,  grumbling and looking at his feet, “There’s no  _ boy _ ,” he insists, and doesn’t even find it in himself to be offended when neither of them believes him.

 

True to his word, Julian gives him a cookie.

 

…

“You know,” an amused voice says, and Ty freezes, slowly looking up to meet irresistible blue eyes,  “I make my coffee hot, but you may  _ just _ be hotter.”

 

From his left, there’s the sound of Livvy choking and dropping a spoon. 

 

He flushes, gritting his teeth, “What would you like to order?”

 

“A cup of you, to go, please, no sugar, you’re sweet enough,” Kit smirks,  and Livvy’s giggling now, not even trying to hide it, “And I would also appreciate if you stopped stalking my coffee shop. It just isn’t good to keep meeting like that.”

 

Ty narrows his eyes, “This war isn’t over until I say it’s over, you truant. One coffee, black like your  _ soul _ , coming up.”

 

The blonde laughs and rolls his eyes, leaning in just a little, “I see,  _ Gladstone.  _ Or can I call you Ty, now?” He points at his name tag, where his name is written in his awful hurried handwriting (Livvy was whining about going out to see a cute guy, so he had to go faster than usual), and Ty resists the urge to slam his head against the register.

 

He glares at the ridiculously good looking boy and threatens him with a toothpick, showing his teeth, “Your order will be ready in no time,  _ villain _ .”

 

Kit just winks and shoots finger guns at him before moving to the pick-up queue, where Livvy looks like she’s having a fit, face red from all the laughter. Ty scowls and asks the next person in line what they want.

 

Half an hour later, his archenemy is still sitting on one of the tables next to the window, reading a book, sunlight making his hair look like molten gold, and he looks softer, somehow, when he isn’t being overtly flirty, his nose turned up (he’s got the  _ cutest _ nose - dammit, Ty, keep your mind out of the gutter), and he’s biting his lip, eyes flickering over the page he’s reading.

 

“See something you like?” Livvy elbows him, eyes twinkling.

 

Ty glares at her, “I’m just making sure he doesn’t sabotage the coffee shop, Livia.  _ Someone _ in this establishment should worry about these kind of things, you know.”

 

His twin snorts, “Right, so if I sent a sweaty, smiling Cristina over there to ask him about his intentions, you wouldn’t mind?”

 

His skin itches at the thought of it, but he forces himself not to let it show, “Of course not. I have no special attachment to the boy. In fact, I might just loathe the very sight of him.”

 

The corner of Livvy’s mouth curls up, and she neglects from saying anything else, shaking her head and going back to her queue. The place has quieted down, after the desperate college students have all gotten their caffeine fix, and Ty’s mostly just playing with his Rubix cube, breathing slowly, and trying not to stare at Kit.

 

Emphasis on  _ trying _ .

_ I should check if he needs anything _ , he tells himself,  _ he’s still a customer, after all, even if he’s evil _ .

 

So he mumbles at Livvy, “I’ll be right back.”

 

His twin mimes zipping his mouth shut and locking away the key, tracing a heart over her clavicle and sighing dramatically. God, she’s a menace.

 

Ty walks hesitantly to the table where Kit’s reading, taking a deep breath and preparing his custom Glare™, “Are you finished? Need anything else?”

 

The guy looks up from his novel, smiling when he sees who it is (and  _ no _ , that is  _ not _ adorable), “Ah, it’s you. Well, I don’t really  _ need _ anything. A phone number might be nice.”

 

“Sure,” Ty says warily, “ _ Angel’s Coffee _ ’s number is 001 - “

 

Kit’s face falls, blue eyes darkening with something close to dejection, “I can take a hint,” and he stands up, grabbing his book and smiling at Ty, a little weaker this time, “Sorry, Gladstone.”

 

For some reason, it makes Ty’s stomach twist to see him leave.

 

…

 

Emma takes one look at him, brooding and reading  _ The Redheaded League _ for the third time that evening, and slumps down on the couch next to him, “Hey, Ty. What’s gotten into you? Do you want to be left alone?”

 

He sighs, “I’m fine, Emma. Go and be gross with Julian.”

 

The girl puts her arm around his shoulder slowly, and Ty appreciates it. Sometimes people touch him like they’ve got permission, quick and sure, digging into his skin and marking him forever, and get mad if he moves away, but not Emma. Even though he’s always told her that he doesn’t mind, she gives him time to get away, if he wants to.

 

“Come on, nerd,” she pokes at his side playfully, making him squirm, “Is it because Tavvy took your nerd hat for costume day?”

 

“It’s a  _ deerstalker _ ,” he groans, burying his head in his hand, “And, uh, no. I just… well.” 

_ There’s this boy _ , he thinks, and wants to start laughing hysterically.

 

Emma ruffles his hair, exactly like Julian does. When he was little, Ty had the secret hope that Emma and Julian were his mom and dad, here to take care of him and make sure he was okay. He’s old enough now to know better, to not cry when Emma wants her space and needs somewhere away from the Blackthorns, just for a while, even if she loves them all, but sometimes it still feels like that, like they’re just miles ahead of everyone else.

 

“Go ask that boy out, before Livvy does it for you,” she grins at his stormy expression, and stands up from the couch, smoothing the wrinkles out of her shirt, “Now, I shall go and indeed be gross with your brother. Laterz.”

 

“Don’t say ‘laterz’, you’re twenty years old!” he shouts at her.

 

“ _ Whatever _ .”

 

…

 

“Uh,” Kit boggles when he sees him, dropping a plastic cup. “Shit, shit,  _ shit _ ,” he mutters, bending to pick it up, black uniform t-shirt stretching and trousers painfully tight and- yeah, that’s Ty’s brain out of the equation.

 

“I’d like a latte, please,” Ty says stiffly, wondering if there is an emergency exit route here. Probably not.

 

Kit squeaks, face red, and scrambles to his feet before he chokes out, “Um, yeah, yeah, of course. So...what brought you here?”

 

His eyes narrow, “I never reveal secrets to my enemies.”

 

Somehow, that makes the boy smile, eyes lighting up, and he just stays there, looking at Ty, almost in awe, his arm resting on the counter, elbow propping his head up. A soft dreamy sigh escapes him.

 

“Erm, excuse me?” a man behind Ty asks, looking bored, “Could you please make the coffee and flirt later, kids?”

 

Kit jumps, jabbing his elbow against the register, and winces, “Yes, sorry!”

 

Ty can’t help but laugh, just a little, because really? The guy’s ridiculous. Kit smiles sheepishly at him and shrugs.

 

The latte tastes infuriatingly,  _ amazingly _ good, and Ty glares at the plastic cup while he drinks it in, fuming. After a few minutes, Kit slides into the seat in front of him, still wearing his uniform, sugar on his breastpocket and a coffee stain on the edge of his t-shirt. He looks  _ gorgeous _ . It’s completely unfair, Ty’s already decided he’s going to sue.

 

“Nice, right?” Kit asks, lips curving upwards.

 

“Not as terrible as I’d feared,” Ty allows, because he still has some pride, and looks down at his lap, “I just, uh, had to try it, to make sure you weren’t poisoning half of LA.”

 

“Nah,” Kit grins, and his eyes are impossibly blue, “My dad and I don’t do poison. I  _ did _ put a little of love potion in yours, though. Feel free to tell me if it’s working.”

 

Ty snorts, shaking his head, “You and your dad?”

 

The other boy seems surprised, “Um, yeah. It’s our little place, and our friend Wren helps from time to time. We have small dreams,” he admits, “Not like that huge thing you guys have in front of us, with like, five people working there.”

 

Ty glows at the praise. Even if he doesn’t show it much, he loves the coffee shop, with its ability to always be at the perfect temperature (that might be just Dru and her thermostat skills, though), the comfy booths that he sprawls in past closing time, closing his eyes and putting his head back, the smell of freshly-brewed coffee in the morning, the little leaf designs Livvy tries out on everyone’s cup, biting her lip in concentration, her hands shaking as she traces lines delicately. The way Julian smells like, sweet and delicious, when he hugs him.

 

“Yeah, it’s a family business, too,” he says, lost in his head, and clears his throat, “I like your face.”

 

Kit’s eyes go wide, and he chokes,  “ _ What _ ?”

 

“I mean, I like your  _ coffee _ !” Ty hisses, burying his head in his hands and groaning, “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

 

The other boy giggles, sounding so unbelievably adorable that it makes Ty want to scream, “You like my  _ face _ .”

 

“Yeah, especially when it’s touching my fist!” he snaps, blushing up to the tip of his ears, “Don’t you have work to do?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kit’s eyes sparkle, “Is my face required for anything, Gladstone? Do I have ‘staring session’ scheduled for this afternoon?”

 

Ty doesn’t tip, because it serves him right.

 

…

 

So. It becomes a  _ thing _ .

 

Every week, at least three or four times, either Kit or Ty goes to the other’s coffee shop, orders something under the pretense of rivalry and ‘just seeing how you losers are doing’, and then they both sit together, bickering and teasing. Ty wears his deerstalker and tells Kit about Church and his Sherlock Holmes obsession, bribes him for more lattes with Julian’s muffins, because they’re to  _ die for _ , not that he’s going to tell Livvy that. Kit usually comments the latest movie he saw, funny and at ease, and talks about about his dad, John, and their small but perfect family unit. 

 

After a few weeks, there’s a spot marked on their shift board for when Ty’s away ‘fraternizing with the enemy’, scribbled in Livvy’s loopy handwriting, even though Ty always erases it, grumbling and blushing more than ever.

 

He’s heading out the door, pocketing his keys, when Dru calls out, “Are you going out to see your boyfriend?”

 

Ty freezes, heart racing, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

 

Cristina, sitting around the kitchen table and playing sudoku with a wide-eyed Tavvy, snorts, “You _ so _ do, Tiberius Blackthorn.”

 

“I  _ don’t _ !” he insists, knowing he’s blushing but standing his ground, “Kit’s my archenemy. He’s the Moriarty to my Holmes, we must always fight each other.”

 

“Yeah, a battle of tongues,” Dru snickers, and high-fives Cristina over the couch.

 

“I hate you all,” Ty tells them, putting his headphones on and playing Mozart’s Turkish March, letting it wash over him. Dead composers never meddle in something that’s not their business, unlike girls.

 

But, when he gets to  _ Rook’s _ , Kit’s not there. Instead, a girl with shocking bright green hair is behind the register, whistling some tune under her breath. 

 

“You’re not Kit,” he tells her, because he’s apparently stating the obvious now.

 

She blinks, “Nope, I sure hope I’m not. Name’s Wren, emo kid. Kit’s sick, down with some nasty cold. Kept trying to come, but I forbid him,” she winks, “I can be  _ very _ persuasive. What’ll you be having, sweetheart?”

 

“Where does Kit live?” he demands, eyes narrowing, “How do I know you haven’t killed him to become our next competitor? I won’t stand for this, you know!”

 

The girl’s face goes blank, for a second, and then she gives him a shit-eating grin, “Oh, so  _ you _ ’re Ty, AKA Cute nerd.”

 

“Why does  _ everyone _ insist on calling me a nerd?” he mutters under his breath, sighing, “Yeah, I’m Ty. Now, ruffian, give me Kit’s address!”

 

Wren’s grin widens and she dutifully writes it out on a piece of paper, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, pretty boy.”

 

Sometimes, Ty wonders how other people deal with life. Because. Just.  _ No _ .

 

Kit’s house is nice, he thinks to himself when he sees it. Simple, just two storeys (something that would mean multiple homicide in a six person household like his), but pretty, painted a soft, unthreatening cream.

 

He hesitates, in front of the door. Will...will Kit think he’s being  _ weird _ ? Sooner or later, everyone thinks he’s  _ weird _ . It might not bother the blond that sometimes the suffocating noise at the coffee shop gets to be too much for him and leaves, putting his headphones on, or that he just can’t deal with that many people at a time, so Kit slows down and doesn’t introduce him to anyone after he starts breathing really fast. But Ty knows that even just being himself can be  _ weird _ , can make people freak out really fast and turn tail.

 

Biting his lip, steels himself and rings the doorbell.

 

The door opens,  “Ugh,  _ dad _ , I  _ told _ you I was sick - oh,”

 

Ty freezes. Because.

 

Kit’s  _ dishevelled _ . He’s not wearing a t-shirt (holy  _ fuck _ ), just has a blanket slung over his shoulders, doing  _ nothing _ to cover up his bare chest, soft-looking golden hair covering his stomach and leading um,  _ downwards _ . His hair is adorably messy, sticking out everywhere like he just rolled out of bed, and he’s rubbing at his eyes tiredly, yawning. His pajama bottoms are some kind of marvel superhero’s design, and they reach the floor, the elastic band  _ just _ below a tantalizing view of the upper part of his white boxers.

 

“Um,” Ty chokes out, “I, uh. Wren told me you were sick.”

 

Kit blushes and wraps the blanket tighter around him, covering up his smooth chest (a  _ tragedy _ ), “Oh. Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” his eyes widen, “I swear, everything she told you is a lie, don’t believe her - “

 

“So you  _ don’t _ think I’m a cute nerd?” Ty can’t help but smirk, a little braver, “I’m crushed.”

 

Kit glares at him, blushing, “Shut up. Why are you here, anyway?”

 

Ty blinks and tries to come up with an excuse, “Oh, er. Just, in case you needed anything. I have younger siblings, you know. I’ve taken care of a cold or two.”

 

The blond’s smile is so sweet that it’s giving him cavities, “Aw, Ty, you really  _ do _ care,” he takes a step back and opens the door wider, “Come in, then.”

 

He does, awkward and unsure, hands stuck to his side, and glances at the inside of the house. It’s nice, elegant and simple, with just the necessary furnishing. There’s a wall with pictures of Kit and John together. Sailing, hiking, visiting the Louvre, smiling at the camera while pointing at Michelangelo’s David, a much younger Kit asleep, head on an electric blue kid’s suitcase, a little bit of drool coming out of his mouth.

 

“Um,” Kit quickly moves to hide that from his view, sheepish, and coughs, dry and rough, which makes Ty panic, a little bit.

 

It’s possible he lied about how he’s had experience with colds. Usually Julian took care of those while Livvy and he played Pokémon and did homework, making disgusted faces at Tavvy and Dru, who were always sick at the same time. Right now, he’s kind of terrified Kit will find out and laugh at him.

 

“So…” the blond says, shivering, and Ty steels himself.

 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” he asks, because his English aunt always drilled into him the importance of a cuppa when a person’s sick, “You can just go to bed, if you want. I’ll carry it up for you.”

 

_ See _ , he wants to tell Julian,  _ I can be thoughtful and attentive, too _ .

 

Kit’s lips melt into a soft smile, fingers curling around the edges of his blanket, “You sure you’re not just checking for the ingredients of my latte?”

 

“Someday,” Ty swears, in all seriousness, “I will manage to replicate that wonder, and you will  _ tremble _ .”

 

“Oh, you make me tremble just fine, now,” he waggles his eyebrows, but the flirty effect is somewhat ruined by how he blows his nose afterwards, coughing and blinking tiredly, “A...a cup of tea would be lovely.”

 

Ty smiles, tilting his head to get a better look at Kit. His face is flushed, cheeks pink, and there’s beads of sweat on his forehead. He coughs again, holding his hand up to his mouth.

 

God, but he’s  _ adorable _ .

 

…

 

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Kit moans, shuddering, breath coming out in hot, heavy pants, hands fisting the sheets as he writhes, “Oh,  _ Ty _ .”

 

“It’s just  _ tea _ , good gracious,” he rolls his eyes, trying to hide how much the  _ sounds _ he’s making are affecting him, “You Americans don’t know how to make it the right way, is all.”

 

“This is  _ delicious _ ,” Kit breathes, slurping down tea like he’s been thirsty for day, “Holy shit, I’m moving to England.”

 

“But then I won’t see you anymore,” Ty says before he can shoot himself in the face, and immediately adds, “You know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

 

Kit’s eyes sparkle, “Yeah? And just how  _ close _ do you keep  _ arch _ enemies?”

 

Ty’s mouth is dry, all of the sudden, and he’s suddenly conscious of how   _ close _ he’s sitting on the bed, mattress dipping under him, how his thighs are just  _ inches _ away from Kit’s face, just how warm the fever makes him. He struggles to form words, “I...I don’t know,” he finishes lamely, hands clenching into fists.

 

Kit’s hand settles on his, gentle, and Ty can’t look at him, “Hey, don’t worry,” he whispers, sounding so soothing and  _ honest _ that he turns, meeting his disarming blue eyes, “You know, we could go slow.” He grins, “How about I invite you to a coffee?”

 

Ty laughs, squeezing his hand.

 

…

 

When Kit comes into  _ Angel’s Coffee  _ the next day, still a little sick but otherwise looking okay, there is a haunted look in his eyes that speaks trouble.

 

He says, simply, “Julian is one terrifying guy, when he wants to.”

 

Ty raises an eyebrow from behind the register, passing onto Livvy the order (Black, of course, because Kit’s got an acquired taste for it), and narrows his eyes, “Were you fishing around for his cookies recipe?”

 

“No,” Kit answers, too quickly, and then winces, “I mean, that is a possibility. It is also possible that he told me ‘if you ever touch Ty without his consent I will throw you in my coffee bean grinder’.”

 

Ty snorts, “Sure. Julian can barely kill a fly, let alone a person. And he knows that taking out one of the leaders of the competition only means there would be someone else behind him,” he waggles his finger at him, suspicious, “Just because we’re doing this - thing,” Livvy chuckles and echoes, “ _ Thing _ ”, “doesn’t mean I’m going to let my guard down.”

 

Kit grabs the cup Livvy holds onto him and mutters a quick thanks, “Oh,  _ sweetheart _ ,” he winks, “Something’s going  _ down _ , alright.”

 

Ty glares at him, “I will put enough caffeine in your next drink to keep you awake until tomorrow, do not provoke me at work.”

 

He receives a “Oh,  _ I  _ can keep you up until tomorrow, don’t worry,” and a salute in response, and sighs fondly. Beside him, Livvy starts humming, “Kiss the girl”.  

 

After a few minutes, though, his twin takes pity on him and unties his apron from behind him, smiling softly at his confused frown, “Go on a  _ date _ with him, you idiot,”

 

Ty looks helplessly at Livvy, who just shoos him away from the counter, and he walks, hesitating, to where Kit’s sitting, typing something on his phone, “Hey.”

 

The head of blond hair snaps up, nose scrunched up, and he smiles, “Hey yourself, enemy.”

 

He takes a deep breath, “Want to go...somewhere else that isn’t a coffee shop?”

 

Kit’s eyes turn lost and terrified again and he whispers, “I have eaten nothing but Julian’s cookies for about a week. I thought you’d never ask.”

 

He stands up, pocketing his phone and grinning.

 

Ty takes his hand, smiling uncontrollably. He can’t be bothered to make a remark on how much they’re fighting, or how they’re supposed to be enemies.

 

Kit brings his hand to his lips and kisses it, and Ty blushes, mumbling about, “my whole  _ family _ is here, Rook,  _ move _ .”

 

He’s  _ really _ not mad, though.

 

…

 

They get two cokes and a packet of chips, because they’re broke college students who sneak off from work too many times, and sit on the sidewalk just outside a small bar, laughing and throwing chips at each other. After a while, Kit’s black t-shirt gets covered in them.

 

“My dad’s going to  _ kill _ me,” he groans, resting his head on Ty’s shoulder and snuggling up to him, even though he’s taller than him. It’s dark now, and almost nobody is walking around, just tired workers who rub at their eyes and hurry to catch the last buses. Ty smiles ruefully and starts playing with Kit’s hair, because fuck it, he wants to. “He hates doing laundry.”

 

“Oh, does he?” Ty murmur, “I guess we’ll have to limit our late night shenanigans to my house, then.”

 

Kit shudders, and buries his head against the crook of Ty’s neck, poking at him, “You sly dog, Gladstone. I’ll have all the time to steal your brother’s recipes, then.”

 

“I’ll chase after you,” he vows, snorting at the thought of them running around the Institute yelling about cookies.

 

“Not if I tie you to the bed,” Kit whispers against his skin, and sucks on his neck softly, lips caressing his skin, and he leans in, whimpering a little.

 

“Ah,” he breathes, hands tightening on the edge of the sidewalk, holding himself upright.

 

“Is that alright?” Kit asks, voice low, and the way his warm breath tickles Ty makes his toes curl, eyelids fluttering.

 

“Yeah,” he admits, and takes hold of his head, cupping his cheeks, “But I like to be properly kissed, first.”

 

His lips meet Kit’s, first just pressure and soft skin against his, but then Kit bites on his lower lip, breaking them open and sneaking his tongue inside his mouth, licking and sucking, hands burying in Ty’s hair. He squirms, heart beating its way out of his chest, trying to get closer to the blond, and ends up halfway in his lap, offering up his neck for more abuse, shivering and wishing they were inside, on his bed, anywhere, just -

 

“Am I going to get your secrets easily, like this?” Kit chuckles, biting his earlobe.

 

Ty whines and pushes him away, not really meaning it, “Oh, shut up.”

 

He kisses him, again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

(They almost get arrested for public indecency.)

 

…

 

“Everyone, this is Kit,” Ty’s voice wavers, a little, “Kit, this is everyone.”

 

Silence.

 

“Erm, Ty,” Kit sounds confused, taking his hand, “Is this why you were so nervous today? Introducing me to your family?”

 

“What do you  _ think _ ?” he hisses under his breath, and sees how everyone, including Emma, who’d be usually making a lewd comment, is just staring.

 

“Ty, um, I don’t know how to explain this but - “

 

“Tiberius,” Julian says tiredly, “Your boyfriend came around  _ every day _ to see if you were there. And I mean  _ every day _ . We’ve met him, believe me.”

 

“He’s helping me with my math project,” Dru smiles at him, holding out her fist. Kit bumps it with a grin,  “I just hang around the shop the days you’re not there, so poor guy was sulking and he’s a genius for trigonometry.”

 

“Kit’s acting as my guinea pig for my new dishes,” Cristina winces at Ty’s accusing look, “He likes Mexican food, okay!”

 

“All the food you cook is wonderful, Cris,” Kit says charmingly, and shuts up quickly.

 

“He helped me pick out my prom dress,” Livvy shrugs.

 

“Kit’s into fencing!” Emma gushes excitedly, “We practice every Thursday together!”

 

Julian shrugs, “He likes my cookies.”

 

“Tavvy,” Ty begs, “ _ Please _ .”

 

The youngest Blackthorn grins, “Kit took me out to the park the other day.”

 

“I can’t believe this,” Ty mutters, punching Kit in the shoulder weakly, “You’re like the John Watson of my family. Everyone likes you.”

 

Kit presses a soft kiss to his forehead, smiling, and touches his hair, “But you’re my Sherlock Holmes, you nerd.”

 

“It’s a  _ deerstalker _ !”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are appreciated!


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